Follow the Horse
A Confession
Hot-mix Saturday at Young Park…
Old Testament, New Testament,
Jesus, Satanists,
treasonous Joe Biden,
patriot Donald Trump,
God and country, the flag,
say Amen somebody!
Faithful wretches
intent on restoring
God’s anointed leader…
follow the horse, the man said,
follow the horse.
So I followed the horse
through the streets of Las Cruces,
one of four horses leaving
steaming piles of horse shit
in their wake
as the line of trucks and cars
crept their way to Young Park,
and I played the fool
in front of a hundred
faithful wretches with guns
strapped to their belts,
waiting for the ultimate Trump tweet,
the one that says,
Standby is over… time to
take back what is rightfully ours.
I know how it ends… how it all ends.
I know because the angel
(whom I incorrectly believed to be God)
told me Earth was destined for catastrophe.
Catastrophe upon catastrophe,
queued up in Earth’s timeline.
That was 2011.
In a few days it will be 10 years later.
10 years.
Ten years.
Four horsemen herald the coming New Year.
The beginning is the end and
the end is the beginning… and it is now that
my confession must be spoken aloud.
Every catastrophe thrills
my secret heart.
I eagerly await the day’s news
for more… more… more.
Our fate is sealed.
Fate is destiny.
God’s will?
If this be God’s will, and I believe it is,
I stand ready,
I stand firm.
Knowing the future,
rejoicing in God’s plan,
I nevertheless put my body
on the line and fight
the demons
so intent on our…
destruction.
I emulate the Norsemen of old.
I shall be like the Norsemen of old.
I shall fight the fate this angry god has
placed upon the world.
I shall fight knowing
my cause is lost.
Not for fame,
not for glory,
not for accolades.
Because that is who I am.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
